Spring eats, unstacked
Sarah Stanback-Young curates recipes for the new season
Spring, for all its promise, brings a particular agony for cooks—the awkward lull when winter’s last treasures (citrus, forced rhubarb) have slipped away yet summer’s glut (stone fruits, berries!) remains just out of reach. This in-between season—the exact opposite of the Southern Hemisphere’s current transition to hearty root vegetables—offers a fleeting, singular collection of flavors, neither fully of the frost nor fully of the thaw, rewarding the cook who meets the challenge with equal parts patience and mischief.
In England, this is called the “hunger gap”—that expectant stretch from March to May when the fields are silent and those who eat with the seasons must practice the art of waiting. Indeed, no matter where you live, cooking in early spring requires a finely balanced approach: the wisdom to coax winter’s veterans into one last moment of glory, balanced with the restraint to let spring’s debutantes shine. The cook who lavishes as much care on a waning cabbage as on the season’s first asparagus understands something fundamental: that good cooking always begins with listening to the land, and honoring its rhythms.
And honour it we shall.
A perfect spring meal
Now that daytime stretches luxuriously at both ends—birdsong at dawn, the sun lingering lazily past seven—there’s a softness to the light that makes everything feel a little more . . . possible. Colors now appear richer, fuller, and more embracing. It’s the kind of shift that makes you want to fling open the kitchen windows, lay down a vaguely floral tablecloth, stir a pot, and feed someone something green and good, like
’s yoghurt creamed spinach, or ’s “aggressively green tasting” herby spring vegetable hash with burrata.For me, however, after a 10-hour test kitchen shift—endless dishes, a few small triumphs, the occasional existential crisis—by 6:30 p.m., the thought of a multi-course meal has all the appeal of alphabetising spice jars for fun. Which is exactly where
’s quietly miraculous spanakopita steps in. “The Best,” she calls it, and she’s not wrong. It’s flaky, deeply savory, and, most importantly, mercifully straightforward. This is a recipe designed for those nights when dinner feels more like an obligation than a calling. We’ve all had days when all you’ve got in the refrigerator is a block of feta and a bunch of now-wilted spinach—the only surviving evidence of last week’s spring farmers market haul. As for the freezer? Well, there’s still that half-forgotten packet of phyllo wedged behind the frozen peas. Perfect.While the pie is baking, you might as well pour yourself
’s golden mezcal Negroni—smoky, smooth, just bitter enough. By now, you’ve got 15 minutes until supper, which is enough time to admit that no dinner is complete without something sweet to close it out. It needs to be something quick and easy to prep. That, I can manage with the help of cookbook author , who has the ideal offering: gahwa sundae—coffee, cardamom, saffron, dates, and salted pistachios. This recipe will elevate even the most frostbitten tub of vanilla ice cream into something that feels decidedly luxurious.
Spring’s bounty
On to more green spring-y things.
’s braised mutton with wild garlic dumplings sounds like precisely the sort of slow, satisfying Sunday project that brings out the best of the season. If it were me, I’d add a side salad of fennel and arugula—potent breath be damned.And talking about breath, if you’re curious: wild garlic (also known as ramps) is spring’s most fragrant treasure. It sends chefs, cooks, and foragers into a kind of zealous frenzy. You’ll spot it carpeting damp woodland floors or turning up in neat little bunches at farmers markets, looking deceptively innocent for something so pungent. The season is maddeningly brief—March to May, give or take—so if you see it, don’t hesitate. Grab a bunch or two and speed towards the kitchen.
For a deeper dive,
offers a wild garlic primer complete with history, and a few recipes worth bookmarking. Her wild garlic oil, for instance, makes a fitting companion to a chilled ajo blanco. And if you’re feeling brave, chef, fermenter, and gardener offers his wisdom on how to make beginner-friendly fermented wild garlic. I’m intrigued.Meanwhile, forced rhubarb—that luminous, blush-pink vegetable grown in candlelight and harvested by hand—is nearly taking its final bow. But not to worry, garden rhubarb is stepping in from the wings: greener, sturdier, a little more rustic, but still capable of some excellent tart theatrics.
Cookery writer
, who is based in London and Venice, proffers a rhubarb and cheddar tart that is esoteric enough to raise an eyebrow and irresistible enough that I’d gobble it up with a mix of curiosity and delight.
Tea and treats
April is more famine than feast for fruit, so for desserts, I turn to chocolate, coffee, and tea for early-spring baking inspiration.
If you’re after something light, sharp, and just decadent enough,
’s rhubarb fool with black tea cream is as refined as it sounds, as well as blissfully easy to pull off when you want to impress without perspiring—which, for me, is always.And on the subject of tea, I’m English, so of course in my kitchen, tea can be found not only right beside the kettle but hiding in tins, caddies, boxes, and bags (not forgetting the jars tucked behind jars containing blends I don’t remember buying). However, if your cupboard is bare, start with Earl Grey. Its citrusy, floral backbone lends itself beautifully to spring baking. Snip open a bag or two and fold the leaves into cake batter, as in
’s Earl Grey and orange tea loaf; whip them into a light cream, as in ’s Earl Grey castella cupcakes; or steep them in warm milk for a dark chocolate and Earl Grey ganache that tastes far more elegant than the effort suggests.Tea is also an excellent addition to cookie dough, something I always have stashed in the freezer. “Who are these freezer people?”
asks in his April newsletter. “The ones with room for turkey carcasses, three-layer cakes, lasagna, cookie dough. . .” Here I am, David—a self-confessed deli-container stacker and zip-lock-bag tucker. My freezer’s a game of Tetris: stock wedged between breadcrumbs and browned butter, mystery containers of sauce I swear I’ll label next time, and always at least one bag of cookie dough. Usually two.This weekend, it’s
’s Earl Grey and chocolate cookies. Fragrant with bergamot, anchored by just enough chocolate, crisp-edged, and made for dunking. Perfect with a cuppa or iced milk (yes, iced—it’s magical), or perhaps ’s honey and tahini latte.Which brings me to coffee and cake—specifically, tiramisu cake.
’s version sounds like the perfect answer to a late-afternoon slump. Ideally, this dessert is best consumed horizontally, with a spoon in hand and no pressing obligations. On menus, you’ll notice that some pastry chefs turn to tropical fruit during early spring whilst they wait for the berry and stone fruit season. That’s fine with me, because when there is chunky monkey banana bread on offer, I’m prepared to be patient!
For more spring recipe inspiration, see:
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I love this: "In England, this is called the “hunger gap”—that expectant stretch from March to May when the fields are silent and those who eat with the seasons must practice the art of waiting. Indeed, no matter where you live, cooking in early spring requires a finely balanced approach: the wisdom to coax winter’s veterans into one last moment of glory, balanced with the restraint to let spring’s debutantes shine." Beautifully said.
What a lovely roundup!